Stupid memories

So it’s prom time again and this makes me think in weird nostalgic embarrassment about my own senior of high school year gala. I wore maybe the most ludicrous outfit worn to the event consisting of a white button down shirt with a bolo tie, a tuxedo jacket with tails, charcoal dress pants and some saddle shoes. My hair for some teenaged reason was in braids, a bunch of them bearing red and black beads and silver clasps for some pizzazz! My date, a blond with a pair of beautiful blue eyes and healthy bosom both of which I spent hours staring into like puppy wore a simple black dress; I was more done up than she was. In my hyper fantastical mind she would have been braided up as well as rearing the nose ring she got at a later date. I’m not telling the year of this but at the time it would have been the coolest thing ever. The prom it’s self was held in a hotel with glass elevators which I spent much of my time riding up and down in, trying to make time with my date/girlfriend who was suddenly shy like she had to behave for my school mates. There was a salty meal from the hotels banquets and there was a DJ and dance floor both of which I glared at in hatred and fear . . . not really. Anyway it seemed like everybody was having a good time, nobody was noticeably drunk, nobody was fighting, everyone more or less seemed like they were there just because they had to be . . . but not in an ironic way the kids today do. In the end I had a little fun and some memories. A friend of mine who works in a hotel told me that they were going to be hosting a prom for several hundred kids where there would be three chaperones, five police officers, a breathalyzer testing station and a metal detector. Good times!

Dark Rooms with Flickers

Summer movies!
Oh yeah I gotta’ see ‘em! I want action, dudes with guns, fast cars, hot chicks and all that stuff the teenager in me wants to see. Though if I recall the teenager I was wasn’t too interested in all that; I wanted to see art house movies with French accents and mild twists of insanity. A movie like “Betty Blue” or “Naked Lunch” or “Amelie” was the type of film I wanted to sink my morose teeth into and soak up the weirdness of all. I suppose I wanted my life to be that then, those were my fantasies. A dark hole, a twisted little place where the supernatural was always just around or in the corner was just the ecstasy I needed.
Where did all this change? Did action get better? Did I get tired of odd, little independent movies and the fact that there isn’t always satisfaction in them? Maybe I just don’t care to put my mind into anything anymore and just want explosions and a happy ending. I watched a movie recently called “Girlfriend Experience” which is directed by a major “indie” fellow and stars a porn actress; it left me feeling like I didn’t give two cents about anything. Yes, the movie looked great and there was a certain voyeuristic quality of it that I liked but I didn’t get jack from it. So now I have to compare this to “Star Trek” which while silly and a bit overdone had all the things we want in a summer movie! I was still left feeling, feh. This is a result of me being jaded, right? Maybe the action genre has been taken as far as it can, maybe it reached it’s most awesome realization in “Terminator 2”
Maybe I just can’t escape anymore. I’m too in my own head to get off.

Oh my God . . .

Is there anything better than a huge rock concert? If the a few strains of Alternative rock and punk rock fans had their way the answer would be, yes. I’m not gonna’ lie and say that I can’t handle both and that I haven’t been thoroughly satisfied with show at a smaller venue but when you see that band that is huge with star power and they have a show to equal the sound it is raw awesomeness!
It’s the train bursting through the stage, the huge Rosie blow up doll and it’s the big canon blasts that AC/DC guarantees as they go out with “For Those About to Rock”! Iit’s even an Alternative band like Jane’s Addiction at their first Lollapalooza show and the big screens behind them, the dancing monster, the sexy, sexy girls getting totally sexy on one another during “Ted, Just Admit it . . .”! It’s Tommy Lee being raised up, spun around upside down in his drum cage while banging out his solo! It is Ted Nugent swinging onto the stage from a vine and then firing an arrow into a flaming guitar! It’s that pig floating around the Pink Floyd shows; it’s the spectacle of Rock! It’s Kiss.
These are freaks doing crazy things for our acceptance and appetite of sex and war. I have it and you have; it is the desire for primal exploitation, birth, death and rebirth. Now I’m not sure f this is any different than some opera or religious story though the music makes the rock show kick much more ass! To me it would confirm that all we are here to do is procreate and keep our species and DNA strands going like any creature in the animal kingdom. Sure we have sky scrapers, airplanes, civil engineering and Blacky Lawless but I don’t know if it’s really anything more than man’s brain making use of it’ self. If our brains weren’t so big we would still all be in the area around Nairobi eating, sleeping, defecating, fighting and making babies rather than watching David Lee Roth do spin kicks while Eddy Van Halen does guitar crazy.
What was the point?
I love Rock n’ Roll as if my survival depended on it!

Side topic: is Sid Vicious actually slicing up his chest with broken bottles on stage the same as Alice Cooper replicating his decapitation on stage? I never saw either in person.

"culture" vs. "pop" culture vs value

What matters vs. what do I like vs old school entertainment that supposedly hold more weight than more modern forms. I can't lie that I try to absorb all this stuff because I'm not interesting but the things I am exposed to make me seem interesting . . . isn't that true for everybody? Isn't that from "High Fidelity"?
A friend was teasing me that I had no culture but I argued that I'd been to symphonies, I'd been to The Nutcracker, I'd been exposed to famous works of art, she argued that I would still be happier at a rock concert. I didn't respond or retort, why waste my breath with words that can't back up actions, after all I'm just a man not the son of the sun king.
I'm not exactly sure if there should be a difference between any of these things because they all made money, they all convey some sort of information, they all make people happy or feel something and maybe a grand opera tells the same story as an Aerosmith song. So there's Andy Worhal who was like some flake who said simple cocktail observations and did some art because there wasn't anything easier to do. While doing this he invented something for people with nothing substantial but not before getting art critics to go for his schtick. I actually don't know if any of that is correct but it sounds about right.
Is classic art important beyond asthetics? Personally I feel that if it can tell a good story with something interesting to say. The Greek plays or poems are a good example of this as is the next versions of those in the form of Shakespear . . . now we have Stephen king.

Have I mentioned that I have this odd hunger for sugar cereal lately? I just want to chow down on some sugar pops. I don't know why but there it is. Steak and eggs also sounds really fork licking good too!

I guess none of this matters because it can all come down to generational themes and technology. We are humans and have a lot of free time which most of us choose not to do anything important with so we need to use up that time with entertainment and leisure activities . . . so even sport gets thrown into the mix here. Athletics are important because it can represent what we are physically capable of even if we need performance enhancers. I don't know what the Ancient Greeks and Egyptians used to make themselves better in competition but certainly there was a modern idea of cheating going on.
You know classic books have more references to their times than you might expect, making them essentially pop items before the term was what it was. I like a book that can capture a time without being obsessed with it or being so much a product of it's time it doesn't transcend it.

"What's a transom, Bob"

Pop Stuff

Lady Gaga touches me someplace between Britney Spears and Bjork but I don't know exactly where or why. I can't say I'm a fan but that "poker Face" song is stuck on me like a bad tattoo. I heard about her before I heard her and somebody tried to give her credit for being a self realized pop star in that Andy Whorhal's fantasy type of way.
She makes me want to dance, she makes me want to be fake but she doesn't make me want to be real or honest with anybody. She is candy that gives you cavities instantaneously but tastes so good you don't care. I don't think in a year I'll remember what in the world I was concerned about but for now I'm staring and listening like a dope

Occupations and Stuff

So is banking sexy? Is there anything sexy about banking? I’ve seen attractive tellers before but I don’t know if the job added to any allure that they might have had in the first place. Some jobs have a sex appeal and if you were told somebody had an occupation like a fireman, nurse, doctor, cowboy, secretary or chauffeur you might make assumptions on their sex appeal based on some stereotype or possible first hand experience. Based on this idea are bankers exy? Money can be sexy for it can afford you so much awesome stuff! A person who runs the bank may be exy by their power and position as would the C.E.O. of the company. I guess what I am really talking about is stereotypes aren’t I? But are hookers sexy? Not really.

These Ads/ I'm a Problem

So . . . I saw the ad on TV for "Late Night" flavored Doritos and like magic I was convinced I had to have some! I put on my pants, counted the few dollars in the pocket and practically danced out the door looking for some sort of snack salvation. Truth be told I didn't even lock my apartment door; I just made a choice to get what I needed to get.
As I crossed the street to get to the closest market I began to wonder how bad I would feel if I discovered the store didn't carry the new item and would I attempt to purchase them at the next place I encountered. What would be worse is if the market had them but told me I couldn't actually by them until it was in fact late night; looking at my watch I realized I would have so many hours to wait. For whatever reason I tried to act casual about the purchase, I almost tried to act aloof as if I was just chillin' in the corner store, killin' time; clearly there is something wrong with me as I can't even just give in to temptation like a normal conspicuous consumer. I think the first time I tried to buy beer underage I was more direct . . . but that's a story for another time.
Anyway I went to the chips and eyed them all before seeing the black bags with pseudo neon signs advertising the brand and flavor which of course became a whole ulcer inducing process as well. "Last Jalapeno Popper" or "Tacos at Midnight"? NO! The effort was taking the excitement out of the whole grand dream I had about tearing open the bag and pouring those suckers down my throat. Based on no digression at all I went with the Jalapeno and humbly placed the bag on the counter hoping the due wouldn't start asking me questions, congratulate or fill me in on the specifications of my purchase, all went smooth and we didn't even bring plastic or paper in to the transaction.
Once I had the snack I looked over the bag, easily tore open the top, took a whiff and plucked out a chip at random. The taste was indistinguishable from many of the other Doritos family chips.
Like in so many other aspects of my life I had been had and suckered by what I thoguht I wanted my life to be about.

I'm dumb.